Hermione remained in the hospital wing for several weeks. There was a flurry of rumor about her disappearance when the rest of the school arrived back from their Christmas holidays, because of course everyone thought that she had been attacked. So many students filed past the hospital wing trying to catch a glimpse of her that Madam Pomfrey took out her curtains again and placed them around Hermione's bed, to spare her the shame of being seen with a furry face.
Persephone, Harry and Ron went to visit her every evening. When the new term started, they brought her each day's homework.
"If I'd sprouted whiskers, I'd take a break from work," said Ron, tipping a stack of books onto Hermione's bedside table one evening.
"Don't be silly, Ron, I've got to keep up," said Hermione briskly. Her spirits were greatly improved by the fact that all the hair had gone from her face and her eyes were turning slowly back to brown. "I don't suppose you've got any new leads?" she added in a whisper, so that Madam Pomfrey couldn't hear her.
"Nothing," said Harry gloomily, as Persephone shook her head.
"I was so sure it was Malfoy," said Ron, for about the hundredth time.
"What's that?" asked Persephone, pointing to something gold sticking out from under Hermione's pillow.
"Just a get well card," said Hermione hastily, trying to poke it out of sight, but Ron was too quick for her. He pulled it out, flicked it open, and read aloud:
"To Miss Granger, wishing you a speedy recovery, from your concerned teacher, Professor Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award."
Ron looked up at Hermione, disgusted.
"You sleep with this under your pillow?"
"Mione! I'm disappointed in you!" said Persephone.
But Hermione was spared answering by Madam Pomfrey sweeping over with her evening dose of medicine.
"Is Lockhart the smarmiest bloke you've ever met, or what?" Ron said to Persephone and Harry as they left the infirmary and started up the stairs toward Gryffindor Tower.
Harry and Ron were complaining about Snape and the mountain of homework he had given to them — Persephone didn't think it was a problem... She and Hermione had worked on the Polyjuice Potion! Compared to it, the Hair Raising Potion was pumpkin juice — when an angry outburst from the floor above reached their ears.
"That's Filch," Harry muttered as they hurried up the stairs and paused, out of sight, listening hard.
"You don't think someone else's been attacked?" said Ron tensely.
They stood still, their heads inclined toward Flich's voice, which sounded quite hysterical.
"Even more work for me! Mopping all night, like I haven't got enough to do! No, this is the final straw, I'm going to Dumbledore —"
His footsteps receded along the out-of-sight corridor and they heard a distant door slam.
They poked their heads around the corner. Filch had clearly been manning his usual lookout post: They were once again on the spot where Mrs. Norris had been attacked. They saw at a glance what Filch had been shouting about. A great flood of water stretched over half the corridor, and it looked as though it was still seeping from under the door of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Now that Filch had stopped shouting, they could hear Myrtle's wails echoing off the bathroom walls.
"Now what's up with her?" said Persephone.
"Let's go and see," said Harry, and holding their robes over their ankles they stepped through the great wash of water to the door bearing its OUT OF ORDER sign, ignored it as always, and entered.
Moaning Myrtle was crying, if possible, louder and harder than ever before. She seemed to be hiding down her usual toilet. It was dark in the bathroom because the candles had been extinguished in the great rush of water that had left both walls and floor soaking wet.
"What's up, Myrtle?" said Harry.
"Who's that?" glugged Myrtle miserably. "Come to throw something else at me?" Harry waded across to her stall and said, "Why would I throw something at you?"
"Yeah, that's useless. It wouldn't hurt yo—"
Harry covered Persephone's mouth, taking Hermione's place in her absence. She glared playfully at him, as he fought back a grin.
"Don't ask me," Myrtle shouted, emerging with a wave of yet more water, which splashed onto the already sopping floor. "Here I am, minding my own business, and someone thinks it's funny to throw a book at me..."
"But it can't hurt you if someone throws something at you," said Harry, reasonably. "I mean, it'd just go right through you, wouldn't it?"
Persephone rolled her eyes, her mouth still covered. Harry had supposedly stopped her from saying something stupid or offensive, but then he went and did it himself. Indeed, he had said the wrong thing. Myrtle puffed herself up and shrieked, "Let's all throw books at Myrtle, because she can't feel it! Ten points if you can get it through her stomach! Fifty points if it goes through her head! Well, ha, ha, ha! What a lovely game, I don't think!"
"Who threw it at you, anyway?" asked Harry, as Persephone pulled his hand away from her face.
"I don't know... I was just sitting in the U-bend, thinking about death, and it fell right through the top of my head," said Myrtle, glaring at them. "It's over there, it got washed out..."
Persephone, Harry and Ron looked under the sink where Myrtle was pointing. A small, thin book lay there. It had a shabby black cover and was as wet as everything else in the bathroom. Harry stepped forward to pick it up, but Ron suddenly flung out an arm to hold him back.
"What?" said Harry.
"Are you crazy?" said Ron. "It could be dangerous."
"Dangerous?" said Harry, laughing. "Come off it, how could it be dangerous?"
"It could be cursed for instance" Persephone mumbled, as she observed the black book.
"You'd be surprised," said Ron, agreeing with Persephone. "Some of the books the Ministry's confiscated Dad's told me — there was one that burned your eyes out. And everyone who read Sonnets of a Sorcerer spoke in limericks for the rest of their lives. And some old witch in Bath had a book that you could never stop reading! You just had to wander around with your nose in it, trying to do everything one-handed. And —"
"All right, I've got the point," said Harry.
The little book lay on the floor, nondescript and soggy.
"Well, we won't find out unless we look at it," he said, and he ducked around Ron and picked it up off the floor, Persephone behind him to look over his shoulder.
They saw at once that it was a diary, and the faded year on the cover told them it was fifty years old. He opened it eagerly. On the first page he could just make out the name "T M. Riddle" in smudged ink.
"Hang on," said Ron, who had approached cautiously and was looking over Harry's other shoulder. "I know that name... T. M. Riddle got an award for special services to the school fifty years ago."
"How on earth d'you know that?" said Harry in amazement.
"Because Filch made me polish his shield about fifty times in detention," said Ron resentfully. "That was the one I burped slugs all over. If you'd wiped slime off a name for an hour, you'd remember it, too."
Harry peeled the wet pages apart. They were completely blank, not even the faintest trace of writing on any of them.
"He never wrote in it" said Harry, disappointed.
Persephone chuckled, "Were you expecting to read his secrets?"
"I wonder why someone wanted to flush it away?" said Ron curiously.
Harry turned to the back cover of the book and saw the printed name of a variety store on Vauxhall Road, London.
"He must've been Muggle-born," said Harry thoughtfully. "To have bought a diary from Vauxhall Road..."
"Well, it's not much use to you," said Ron. He dropped his voice. "Fifty points if you can get it through Myrtle's nose."
Persephone swatted his arm.
"Ouch— I thought you didn't like her, why are you defending her now?"
"I don't particularly like her, but she's not doing anything to me or my friends now, so there's no need to be mean to her.."
"You're always mean to her" Ron pointed out.
"I'm not. I'm blunt, I say whatever I think," she said, "which is a good thing as well as a bad thing".
Harry pocketed the diary.
Hermione left the hospital wing, de-whiskered, tail-less, and furfree, at the beginning of February. On her first evening back in Gryffindor Tower, Harry showed her T. M. Riddle's diary and told her the story of how they had found it.
"Oooh, it might have hidden powers," said Hermione enthusiastically, taking the diary and looking at it closely.
"If it has, it's hiding them very well," said Ron. "Maybe it's shy. I don't know why you don't chuck it, Harry."
"I wish I knew why someone did try to chuck it," said Harry. "I wouldn't mind knowing how Riddle got an award for special services to Hogwarts either."
"Could've been anything," said Ron. "Maybe he got thirty O.W.L.s or saved a teacher from the giant squid. Maybe he murdered Myrtle; that would've done everyone a favor..."
"You, Ronald Weasley, are a prick" said Persephone, sighing.
"Hey!"
"Oh— don't worry, we know it and love you all the same," she laughed, "Anyway, this diary date back to fifty years ago, the last time the Chamber has been opened was fifty years ago, make your deductions..."
Persephone could tell from the arrested look on Harry's and Hermione's faces that they were thinking what she was thinking.
"So?" asked Ron.
"Oh, Ron, wake up," snapped Hermione. "We know the person who opened the Chamber last time was expelled fifty years ago. We know T. M. Riddle got an award for special services to the school fifty years ago. Well, what if Riddle got his special award for catching the Heir of Slytherin? His diary would probably tell us everything — where the Chamber is, and how to open it, and what sort of creature lives in it — the person who's behind the attacks this time wouldn't want that lying around, would they?"
"That's a brilliant theory, Hermione," said Ron, "with just one tiny little flaw. There's nothing written in his diary."
But Hermione was pulling her wand out of her bag. "It might be invisible ink!" she whispered.
She tapped the diary three times and said, "Aparecium!"
Nothing happened. Undaunted, Hermione shoved her hand back into her bag and pulled out what appeared to be a bright red eraser.
"It's a Revealer, I got it in Diagon Alley," she said.
She rubbed hard on January first. Nothing happened.
"I'm telling you, there's nothing to find in there," said Ron. "Riddle just got a diary for Christmas and couldn't be bothered filling it in."
But Harry didn't throw Riddle's diary away. Persephone didn't like it one bit. There was no reason for him to keep that diary, as it was blank, but he couldn't bring himself to throw it away and it wasn't a good sign.
He was kind of obsessed with the idea of finding out who was Riddle, so next day at break, he headed for the trophy room to examine Riddle's special award, accompanied by a reluctant Persephone, an interested Hermione and a thoroughly unconvinced Ron, who told them he'd seen enough of the trophy room to last him a lifetime.
Riddle's burnished gold shield was tucked away in a corner cabinet. It didn't carry details of why it had been given to him ("Good thing, too, or it'd be even bigger and I'd still be polishing it," said Ron). However, they did find Riddle's name on an old Medal for Magical Merit, and on a list of old Head Boys.
"He sounds like Percy," said Ron, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "Prefect, Head Boy... probably top of every class —"
"You say that like it's a bad thing," said Hermione in a slightly hurt voice.
The sun had now begun to shine weakly on Hogwarts again. Inside the castle, the mood had grown more hopeful. There had been no more attacks since those on Justin and Nearly Headless Nick, and Madam Pomfrey was pleased to report that the Mandrakes were becoming moody and secretive, meaning that they were fast leaving childhood.
"The moment their acne clears up, they'll be ready for repotting again," Persephone and Harry heard her telling Filch kindly one afternoon. "And after that, it won't be long until we're cutting them up and stewing them. You'll have Mrs. Norris back in no time."
Persephone didn't understand the Heir of Slytherin. Why had the attacks stopped? She was convinced it wasn't because of fear of being discovered. The heir was probably sure professors had no possibility to find out their identity. There was a point in stopping during Christmas break as there were less students and an attack would've meant to reduce the number of suspects, but now? They didn't want to attack... or maybe it wasn't that they didn't want to, maybe they couldn't.
Ernie Macmillan of Hufflepuff was still convinced that Harry was the guilty one, that he had "given himself away" at the Dueling Club. At least Peeves wasn't doing anything to worsen the situation. It wasn't because he was fond of Harry or anything, but because after Persephone and Harry had left Dumbledore's office that infamous day, Persephone had got her revenge on Peeves.
She had found him in the dungeons, conveniently alone. He had been trying to avoid her, but she had caught him off guard, clearing her throat and orbing in front of him when he had tried to escape her.
"Wha— How?" he had stuttered shocked.
"Tell me Peeves... Did you have fun accusing Harry?"
"Miss Halliwell— I didn't mean to— I just thought it was fun—"
"Of course you did. You always do. The problem is you got on my nerves this time, Peeves."
"I'm sorry, Miss Halliwell, please don't exorcise me!"
"I think I turned a blind eye to your behavior once too often... I think you don't take me seriously enough."
"No— I would never—"
"Zip it!" she had said coldly. "This spirit has failed me once too much; And this witch has already had enough; teach him a lesson, three minutes is what he needs; to show him how a real exorcism feels."
The effect had been immediate. The poltergeist had started screaming in panic as his body had been slowly fading in the air, like a hologram. This had continued for three minutes, after which Peeves had been worn out.
"Next time—"
"There won't be a next time, Miss Halliwell! I swear I'll behave—"
"I don't want you to behave, Peeves. I want you to learn who you can play a prank to and when. I also don't care as long as it's an innocent prank, but right now thanks to you Harry is believed to be the Heir of Slytherin even more than before!"
Persephone had left him there with a last warning, "One more time, Peeves."
Since then Peeves had avoided her at all costs.
Gilderoy Lockhart seemed to think he himself had made the attacks stop. Persephone and Harry overheard him telling Professor McGonagall so while the Gryffindors were lining up for Transfiguration. "I don't think there'll be any more trouble, Minerva," he said, tapping his nose knowingly and winking. "I think the Chamber has been locked for good this time. The culprit must have known it was only a matter of time before I caught him. Rather sensible to stop now, before I came down hard on him.
"You know, what the school needs now is a morale-booster. Wash away the memories of last term! I won't say any more just now, but I think I know just the thing..."
He tapped his nose again and strode off.
Lockhart's idea of a morale-booster became clear at breakfast time on February fourteenth. Neither Persephone nor Harry had had much sleep because of a late-running Quidditch practice the night before, and they hurried down to the Great Hall, slightly late. Persephone thought, for a moment, that she'd walked through the wrong doors.
The walls were all covered with large, lurid pink flowers. Worse still, heart-shaped confetti was falling from the pale blue ceiling. Persephone and Harry went over to the Gryffindor table, where Ron was sitting looking sickened, and Hermione seemed to have been overcome with giggles.
"What's going on?" Harry asked them, sitting down and wiping confetti off his bacon.
"Yeah, it's like a unicorn has vomited rainbows, flowers and hearts all over the Great Hall" said Persephone.
Ron pointed to the teachers' table, apparently too disgusted to speak. Lockhart, wearing lurid pink robes to match the decorations, was waving for silence.
"I correct myself, it seems like Lockhart vomited rainbows..." said Persephone disgusted, as Ron and Harry snickered and Hermione glared at her.
The teachers on either side of him were looking stony-faced. Snape looked as though someone had just fed him a large beaker of SkeleGro.
"Happy Valentine's Day!" Lockhart shouted. "And may I thank the forty-six people who have so far sent me cards! Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all — and it doesn't end here!"
Lockhart clapped his hands and through the doors to the entrance hall marched a dozen surlylooking dwarfs. Not just any dwarfs, however. Lockhart had them all wearing golden wings and carrying harps.
Persephone's eyes widened, "Oh my— the seven dwarfs would be so offended by this" she said seriously annoyed. 'And uncle Coop, too' she added internally.
"Who?" asked Ron confused.
"Never mind..."
"You said that as if you've actually met them, Sephie" said Hermione curiously.
"How could I have met them, Mione? They're just part of a fairy tail."
"My friendly, card-carrying cupids!" beamed Lockhart. "They will be roving around the school today delivering your valentines! And the fun doesn't stop here! I'm sure my colleagues will want to enter into the spirit of the occasion! Why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a Love Potion! And while you're at it, Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I've ever met, the sly old dog!"
Professor Flitwick buried his face in his hands. Snape was looking as though the first person to ask him for a Love Potion would be force-fed poison.
"Please, Hermione, tell me you weren't one of the forty-six," said Ron as they left the Great Hall for their first lesson. Hermione suddenly became very interested in searching her bag for her schedule and didn't answer.
Persephone was too busy laughing at Hermione's reaction to notice all the eyes fixed on her.
All day long, the dwarfs kept barging into their classes to deliver valentines, to the annoyance of the teachers. But above all to the annoyance of Persephone, who had received already forty-eight valentines from anonymous people. Late that afternoon as the Gryffindors were walking upstairs for Charms, one of the dwarfs caught up with her and her friends.
"Oy, you!"
"Oh Godric! Please no!" she panicked.
"'Arry Potter!" shouted a particularly grim-looking dwarf, elbowing people out of the way to get to Harry. Persephone sighed in relief, "Good luck, buddy" she said patting his back.
Harry tried to escape as Persephone smiled at him sympathetically. She knew what he was feeling, after all she had felt the same the entire morning. Little she knew that actually Harry didn't want to receive a valentine in front of her. The dwarf, however, cut his way through the crowd by kicking people's shins, and reached him before he'd gone two paces.
"I've got a musical message to deliver to 'Arry Potter in person," he said, twanging his harp in a threatening sort of way.
"Not here," Harry hissed, trying to escape.
"Stay still!" grunted the dwarf, grabbing hold of Harry's bag and pulling him back.
"Let me go!" Harry snarled, tugging.
With a loud ripping noise, his bag split in two. His books, wand, parchment, and quill spilled onto the floor and his ink bottle smashed over everything.
Harry scrambled around, trying to pick it all up before the dwarf started singing, causing something of a holdup in the corridor.
"What's going on here?" came the cold, drawling voice of Draco Malfoy. Harry started stuffing everything feverishly into his ripped bag, desperate to get away, so Persephone helped him with the last things on the floor.
"What's all this commotion?" said another familiar voice as Percy Weasley arrived.
Losing his head, Harry tried to make a run for it, but the dwarf seized him around the knees and brought him crashing to the floor.
"Right," he said, sitting on Harry's ankles.
"Hey!" Persephone protested for her friend, but the dwarf ignored her.
"Here is your singing valentine:
His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,
His hair is as dark as a blackboard,
I wish he was mine, he's really divine
The hero who conquered the Dark Lord
Persephone pursed her lips as everyone started to laugh, she didn't know if at him or at the musical message. She didn't like it either way. Firstly, because Harry was her friend and secondly, because her uncle was an actual cupid, so he had taught her to respect other's feelings — at least when it came to love and affection. Sure, she had been utterly embarrassed the entire morning receiving valentines, but she had never — not even once — made fun of the senders or their messages, even if they were anonymous.
Trying valiantly to laugh along with everyone else — to which Persephone shook her head disappointed—, Harry got up, as Percy Weasley did his best to disperse the crowd, some of whom were crying with mirth.
"Off you go, off you go, the bell rang five minutes ago, off to class, now," he said, shooing some of the younger students away. "And you, Malfoy —"
Persephone and Harry, glancing over, saw Malfoy stoop and snatch up something. Leering, he showed it to Crabbe and Goyle, and the two realized that he'd got Riddle's diary.
"Give that back," said Harry quietly.
"Wonder what Potter's written in this?" said Malfoy, who obviously hadn't noticed the year on the cover and thought he had Harry's own diary.
"None of your business, you nosy prat" said Persephone.
A hush fell over the onlookers. Ginny was staring from the diary to Harry, looking terrified. Persephone was going to ask if she was ok, but Percy interrupted her.
"Hand it over, Malfoy," he said sternly.
"When I've had a look," said Malfoy, waving the diary tauntingly at Harry.
Percy said, "As a school prefect —" but Harry had lost his temper. He pulled out his wand and shouted, "Expelliarmus!" and just as Snape had disarmed Lockhart, so Malfoy found the diary shooting out of his hand into the air. Ron, grinning broadly, caught it.
"Nice shot, Harry!" said Persephone with a grin that matched Ron's.
"Harry!" said Percy loudly. "No magic in the corridors. I'll have to report this, you know!"
Malfoy was looking furious, and as Ginny passed him to enter her classroom, he yelled spitefully after her, "I don't think Potter liked your valentine much!"
Ginny covered her face with her hands and ran into class. Snarling, Ron pulled out his wand, too, but Harry pulled him away. Ron didn't need to spend the whole of Charms belching slugs. Persephone, on the other hand, didn't have that kind of problems with her wand nor she cared about detentions, so she pulled her wand out, raised it and — nothing. Harry pulled her away too.
"Let me go!" she said glaring at Harry.
He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, "You don't need a detention because of Malfoy. He's not worth it."
But Persephone freed herself from his hold with a frown on her face.
"It was not BECAUSE OF Malfoy, it was FOR Ginny. She's absolutely worth it! And you, insensible jerk, don't laugh at other's feelings the way you did before!" she said, quickening her pace.
Harry took her hand, slowing her down.
"I'm sorry, but I was embarrassed. I didn't mean to mock the sender."
"Whatever you say, Harry. It's not me you should apologize to..." she said slightly disappointed. Harry nodded his head and and squeezed her hand. She gave him a small smile and squeezed back.
"If you're done being all lovey-dovey, can we go to Charm? We're going to be late" said Ron with a teasing smirk.
Harry let go of her hand, blushing furiously, as Persephone started to chase Ron down the corridor, "Come here, Weasley!"
It wasn't until they had reached Professor Flitwick's class that Harry noticed something rather odd about Riddle's diary and showed his discovery to Persephone. All his other books were drenched in scarlet ink. The diary, however, was as clean as it had been before the ink bottle had smashed all over it. He tried to point this out to Ron, but Ron was having trouble with his wand again; large purple bubbles were blossoming out of the end, and he wasn't much interested in anything else.
Harry went to bed before anyone else in his dormitory that night. Persephone knew this was partly because he didn't think he could stand Fred and George singing, "His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad" one more time, and partly because he wanted to examine Riddle's diary again. Ron thought he was wasting his time, but Persephone didn't and she had become more curious about the diary since that afternoon.
"I'm coming with you, Harry" said Persephone, following him and ignoring the twins's wolf-whistles. She was twelve for goodness' sake!
Harry and Persephone sat on his four-poster and flicked through the blank pages, not one of which had a trace of scarlet ink on it. Then he pulled a new bottle out of his bedside cabinet, dipped his quill into it, and dropped a blot onto the first page of the diary.
The ink shone brightly on the paper for a second and then, as though it was being sucked into the page, vanished. Persephone and Harry looked at each other excitedly.
"Come on, Harry write something!"
Harry loaded up his quill a second time and wrote, "My name is Harry Potter and this is my friend—"
"Polaris!" piped up Persephone.
Harry looked at her confused, "What?"
"I sign my letters and notes as Polaris! Write Polaris Halliwell."
"Uhm.... Ok," he wrote it, "but why?"
"Because I like my second name" she said shrugging.
The words shone momentarily on the page and they, too, sank without trace. Then, at last, something happened.
Oozing back out of the page, in his very own ink, came words Harry had never written. "Hello, Harry Potter, Polaris Halliwell. My name is Tom Riddle. How did you come by my diary?"
These words, too, faded away, but not before Harry had started to scribble back. "Someone tried to flush it down a toilet."
They waited eagerly for Riddle's reply.
"Lucky that I recorded my memories in some more lasting way than ink. But I always knew that there would be those who would not want this diary read."
"What do you mean?" Harry scrawled, blotting the page in his excitement, as Persephone raised a brow.
"I mean that this diary holds memories of terrible things. Things that were covered up. Things that happened at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
"That's where we are now," Harry wrote quickly, then he looked at Persephone, who nodded her head.
"Ask him" she whispered.
"We are at Hogwarts, and horrible stuff's been happening. Do you know anything about the Chamber of Secrets?"
Their hearts were hammering. Riddle's reply came quickly, his writing becoming untidier, as though he was hurrying to tell all he knew.
"Of course I know about the Chamber of Secrets. In my day, they told us it was a legend, that it did not exist. But this was a lie. In my fifth year, the Chamber was opened and the monster attacked several students, finally killing one. I caught the person who'd opened the Chamber and he was expelled. But the Headmaster, Professor Dippet, ashamed that such a thing had happened at Hogwarts, forbade me to tell the truth. A story was given out that the girl had died in a freak accident. They gave me a nice, shiny, engraved trophy for my trouble and warned me to keep my mouth shut. But I knew it could happen again. The monster lived on, and the one who had the power to release it was not imprisoned."
Harry nearly upset his ink bottle in his hurry to write back.
"It's happening again now. There have been three attacks and no one seems to know who's behind them. Who was it last time?"
"I can show you both, if you like, "came Riddle's reply. "You don't have to take my word for it. I can take you inside my memory of the night when I caught him."
Harry hesitated, his quill suspended over the diary, as Persephone placed her hand on his. What did Riddle mean? How could they be taken inside somebody else's memory? Harry glanced nervously at the door to the dormitory, which was growing dark and then at Persephone, who nodded again, but this time hesitantly. When they looked back at the diary, they saw fresh words forming.
"Let me show you."
Harry paused for a fraction of a second and then wrote two letters. OK
They held hands and prepared themselves for whatever was going to happen.
The pages of the diary began to blow as though caught in a high wind, stopping halfway through the month of June. Mouth hanging open, Persephone and Harry saw that the little square for June thirteenth seemed to have turned into a minuscule television screen. Harry's hands trembling slightly, he raised the book to bring it closer to their faces and look through the little window, and before they knew what was happening, they were tilting forward; the window was widening, she felt her body leave Harry's bed, and she was pitched headfirst through the opening in the page, into a whirl of color and shadow.
They felt their feet hit solid ground, and stood, shaking and leaning on each other as the blurred shapes around them came suddenly into focus.
Persephone knew immediately where they were. This circular room with the sleeping portraits was Dumbledore's office — but it wasn't Dumbledore who was sitting behind the desk. A wizened, frail-looking wizard, bald except for a few wisps of white hair, was reading a letter by candlelight. Who in the name of Merlin was this man?
"I'm sorry," Harry said shakily. "We didn't mean to butt in —"
But the wizard didn't look up. He continued to read, frowning slightly. Persephone and Harry drew nearer to his desk and stammered, "Er — we'll just go, shall we?"
Still the wizard ignored him.
"Hey! We're talking with you, old man!" said Persephone, greatly annoyed by this man's rudeness.
"Sephie!" Harry reprimanded her.
However, the man didn't seem even to have heard them. Evidently, thinking that the wizard might be deaf, Harry raised his voice.
"Sorry we disturbed you. We'll go now," he half-shouted.
The wizard folded up the letter with a sigh, stood up, walked past Persephone and Harry without glancing at them, and went to draw the curtains at his window.
The sky outside the window was ruby-red; it seemed to be sunset. The wizard went back to the desk, sat down, and twiddled his thumbs, watching the door.
Persephone looked around the office. No Fawkes the phoenix — no whirring silver contraptions. This was Hogwarts as Riddle had known it, meaning that this unknown wizard was Headmaster, not Dumbledore, and they, Persephone and Harry, were little more than phantoms, completely invisible to the people of fifty years ago.
There was a knock on the office door.
"Enter," said the old wizard in a feeble voice.
A boy of about sixteen entered, taking off his pointed hat. A silver prefect's badge was glinting on his chest. He was much taller than Harry, but he, too, had jet-black hair. He was kind of handsome.
"Ah, Riddle," said the Headmaster.
"That's Tom Riddle?!" said Persephone with wide eyes.
Harry frowned at her, "Why?"
"Oh— nothing," she said with a faint blush on her cheeks, "Let's watch."
"You wanted to see me, Professor Dippet?" said Riddle. He looked nervous. "Sit down," said Dippet. "I've just been reading the letter you sent me." "Oh," said Riddle. He sat down, gripping his hands together very tightly.
"My dear boy," said Dipper kindly, "I cannot possibly let you stay at school over the summer. Surely you want to go home for the holidays?"
"No," said Riddle at once. "I'd much rather stay at Hogwarts than go back to that — to that —"
"You live in a Muggle orphanage during the holidays, I believe?" said Dippet curiously. "Yes, sir," said Riddle, reddening slightly.
"You are Muggle-born?"
"Half-blood, sir," said Riddle. "Muggle father, witch mother."
"And are both your parents —?"
"My mother died just after I was born, sir. They told me at the orphanage she lived just long enough to name me — Tom after my father, Marvolo after my grandfather."
Dipper clucked his tongue sympathetically.
"The thing is, Tom," he sighed, "Special arrangements might have been made for you, but in the current circumstances..."
"You mean all these attacks, sir?" said Riddle, Harry and Persephone moved closer, scared of missing anything.
"Precisely," said the headmaster. "My dear boy, you must see how foolish it would be of me to allow you to remain at the castle when term ends. Particularly in light of the recent tragedy... the death of that poor little girl... You will be safer by far at your orphanage. As a matter of fact, the Ministry of Magic is even now talking about closing the school. We are no nearer locating the — er — source of all this unpleasantness..."
Riddle's eyes had widened.
"Sir — if the person was caught — if it all stopped —"
"What do you mean?" said Dippet with a squeak in his voice, sitting up in his chair. "Riddle, do you mean you know something about these attacks?"
"No, sir," said Riddle quickly.
'You're lying— why are you lying?' thought Persephone titling her head.
Dippet sank back, looking faintly disappointed.
"You may go, Tom..."
Riddle slid off his chair and slouched out of the room. The two followed him.
Down the moving spiral staircase they went, emerging next to the gargoyle in the darkening corridor. Riddle stopped, and so did Persephone and Harry, watching him. Persephone could tell that Riddle was doing some serious thinking. He was biting his lip, his forehead furrowed.
Then, as though he had suddenly reached a decision, he hurried off, Persephone and Harry gliding noiselessly behind him. They didn't see another person until they reached the entrance hall, when a tall wizard with long, sweeping auburn hair and a beard called to Riddle from the marble staircase.
"What are you doing, wandering around this late, Tom?"
Harry gaped at the wizard, as Persephone's eyes widened. He was none other than a fifty-year-younger Dumbledore.
"I had to see the headmaster, sir," said Riddle.
"Well, hurry off to bed," said Dumbledore, giving Riddle exactly the kind of penetrating stare that Harry knew so well and that Persephone ignored every time. "Best not to roam the corridors these days. Not since..."
He sighed heavily, bade Riddle good night, and strode off. Riddle watched him walk out of sight and then, moving quickly, headed straight down the stone steps to the dungeons, with Persephone and Harry in hot pursuit.
Riddle led them to the very dungeon in which Persephone and her friends had Potions with Snape. The torches hadn't been lit, and when Riddle pushed the door almost closed, the other two could only just see him, standing stock-still by the door, watching the passage outside.
It felt that they were there for at least an hour. All they could see was the figure of Riddle at the door, staring through the crack, waiting like a statue. And just when Persephone was going to ask Harry to give her a piggyback because she was falling asleep — it was worth a try — they heard something move beyond the door.
Someone was creeping along the passage. They heard whoever it was pass the dungeon where they and Riddle were hidden. Riddle, quiet as a shadow, edged through the door and followed, Harry tiptoeing behind him, forgetting that he couldn't be heard. Persephone sighed and slapped his arm catching his attention.
"They cannot hear us, genius" she whispered.
Harry raised an eyebrow and said, "Then why are you whispering, genius?"
Persephone blinked twice before grinning stupidly, "Good point."
For perhaps five minutes they followed the footsteps, until Riddle stopped suddenly, his head inclined in the direction of new noises. Persephone heard a door creak open, and then someone speaking in a hoarse whisper.
"C'mon... gotta get yeh outta here... C'mon now... in the box..."
There was something familiar about that voice...
Riddle suddenly jumped around the corner. Harry and Persephone stepped out behind him. They could see the dark outline of a huge boy who was crouching in front of an open door, a very large box next to it. "Evening, Rubeus," said Riddle sharply.
The boy slammed the door shut and stood up.
"What yer doin' down here, Tom?"
Riddle stepped closer.
"It's all over," he said. "I'm going to have to turn you in, Rubeus. They're talking about closing Hogwarts if the attacks don't stop."
"'N at d'yeh —"
"I don't think you meant to kill anyone. But monsters don't make good pets. I suppose you just let it out for exercise and —"
"It never killed no one!" said the large boy, backing against the closed door. From behind him, Harry and Persephone could hear a funny rustling and clicking.
"Come on, Rubeus," said Riddle, moving yet closer. "The dead girl's parents will be here tomorrow. The least Hogwarts can do is make sure that the thing that killed their daughter is slaughtered..."
"It wasn't him!" roared the boy, his voice echoing in the dark passage. "He wouldn'! He never!"
"Stand aside," said Riddle, drawing out his wand.
His spell lit the corridor with a sudden flaming light. The door behind the large boy flew open with such force it knocked him into the wall opposite. And out of it came something that made Harry let out a long, piercing scream unheard by anyone but Persephone, who automatically raised her hands to freeze the creature, but being a memory it didn't work — fortunately.
A vast, low-slung, hairy body and a tangle of black legs; a gleam of many eyes and a pair of razor-sharp pincers — Riddle raised his wand again, but he was too late. The thing bowled him over as it scuttled away, tearing up the corridor and out of sight. Riddle scrambled to his feet, looking after it; he raised his wand, but the huge boy leapt on him, seized his wand, and threw him back down, yelling, "NOOOOOO!"
The scene whirled, the darkness became complete; Persephone felt herself falling and, with a crash, Harry landed spread-eagled on his four-poster in the Gryffindor dormitory with Persephone on top of him, face to face, Riddle's diary lying open next to them.
They gazed into each other eyes, Harry simply looking shocked, and Persephone shaking her head in disbelief — literally, as she absolutely refused to believe what Riddle was telling them with that memory.
Before they had time to say anything, the dormitory door opened and Ron came in.
"There you ar— oh sorry! I didn't mean to interrupt!" he said, becoming as red as his hair.
Harry sat up, Persephone, still straddling him with a frown on her face, took Harry's pillow and threw it at Ron.
"You got it wrong, you idiot!" she said, getting off Harry's lap.
He was sweating and shaking, Persephone was not in a better condition.
"What's up?" said Ron, looking at them with concern.
"It was Hagrid, Ron. Hagrid opened the Chamber of Secrets fifty years ago."